Dreams Plus Reality
by troddensn0w
Summary: This is a story based off my dreams and what happened because of telling people about those dreams. Almost every name has been changed, so there is hopefully nothing that will offend. On hiatus indefinitely.


_Dream_

Darkness. Utter darkness. Then- "Aaahh!" I sat up in bed, looking around the room. The wardrobe in the corner, the window with its chipped white paint, the Xbox connected to the small TV. I've known this place as home for two years, even though it's only a hotel room. I pulled on a red t-shirt, some shorts, and fumbled on the bedside table for my glasses. Eventually I found them by my clock, which read 8:36 am. Enough time for a walk before breakfast. 'How is it still so dark outside? Jesus,' I thought.

Down the stairs, across the landing, second flight of stairs, down to the hall. Grab the front door key from its hook, out the door. Gazing across the garden and lawn, I thought about how we had ended up here after my parents got divorced. I remembered crying; I didn't want Mum to leave. Of course I didn't. Even though I live with Dad, I still see Mum sometimes, usually one weekend a month. We usually go fishing or something shitty like that, but it's good, though.

I continued to walk across the lawn to the terrace. When I finally got there, I saw my guitar lying on one of the metal tables, with their ornate patterns. It looked like it'd been there all night. I then realised that it had. I'd left it there the previous day, and now it called to me. It wanted me to create perfect melodies and tell stories of love, and loss, and let those stories free into the night. It yearned to sing again, for the first time. Every time I played it, it was like I'd just picked it up, like I had when I first got it, for my twelfth birthday. It had been four years since that had happened, but it was still perfect after all this time. I made my decision then. I picked it up and began to strum, and I let my high, clear voice create the stories the guitar had wanted so desperately. I sang everything I could think of. I told the dawn of my first love, my first kiss, the sad story of my parents' split. I told it of my thoughts of love, and of suicide, and of my love of reading and drawing, and finally of my dreams.

By then, the sun had risen and I saw the first person I'd seen in a while. Just then, my brain went into gibberish mode. 'Oh God what if she heard me what if she liked it oh shit oh shit, she's coming over, fucking hell I need to goddamn calm down oh shit oh shit fuck it!' By then Sadie had reached me, and I blurted out "Did you hear me singing?" She brushed her hair out of her face- 'Oh God, how does she look so good when she does that?'- and replied "Yeah. I loved it. How do you sing like that?" I was pretty sure I blushed beet red at that point, because she started laughing, and before I knew it, I was laughing too, without knowing why. Then, the first unexpected event of the day happened. She sat next to me, and kissed me on the cheek. I went even redder at that point, and we both started laughing again. We talked until ten, when we both started getting hungry, and rushed in for breakfast.

Then, after breakfast, we headed up to my room and talked some more. That is, if you count kissing as a form of talking. But we actually did talk as well. I told her everything I'd told the dawn, and more. I made her know that I loved her with all my heart and soul, and I made her know it with words. With words and nothing else. We talked for hours, until we heard screams and yells from outside. I couldn't be bothered with the door, so I went out of the window. Then I saw what was causing the screams. The path to the gates was now blocked by trees and plant life that hadn't been there before, and they were all burning. Then, on the terrace, we saw another reason for screams. Three people were holding knives to a few of my friends' throats. "Oh my God!" Lola edged behind one of them and attempted to pull the knife away, but to no avail. The knife just sank into Jason's throat. He screamed as blood leaked from the cut across his neck. Finally, after almost a minute, the life finally left his body. "You bastard!" I yelled, charging towards my best friend's killer-'Gonna-fucking-kill-you!'- and landing a punch on his jaw. He stumbled, dropping the knife. I grabbed it and slashed at him, making small cuts on his arms and eventually relieving him of a finger. He shouted in agony, muttering a stream of expletives under his breath. Finally, he stood up again. "Look, kid. I don't know who you _fucking_ are, or what the holy _fuck_ you think you're doing, but I do know that I'm going to _fucking_ kill you dead," he growled, emphasising each expletive. I glanced around, taking in the carnage around me, and then I heard a _crack_ , and the bastard who would have tried to kill me crashed to the floor. There was a small hole in the side of his head where a bullet had obviously entered. Then, I glimpsed someone moving on top of the roof. Was there a sniper? This was a conundrum, just like what was happening. How had trees and bushes suddenly sprouted, and were now burning? Why were my friends dying, and why was a girl who'd never liked me suddenly incredibly interested? What the actual _fuck_ was going on? As I continued to look around, I noticed that the other knife arseholes had vanished. Thank God. There were more _crack_ s, and everyone who had been there (other than us of course) was gone. What the fuck? Where was the damn sniper? _Where_?

This was not good. The day had started well, and now most of the people around were gone. Dead. Including my best friend, who'd been there for me for eleven years. The tears started flowing then. I knew that I'd never be able to come back here, so I'd have to go.

So, that's it. Chapter One!


End file.
